


Lost Boy

by GodsHumbleClown



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Peter Pan - J. M. Barrie
Genre: Character Death, Child Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24502501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodsHumbleClown/pseuds/GodsHumbleClown
Summary: I was thinking about how people sometimes think Peter Pan is death, and he brings the lost boys to the afterlife, and then this happened.Canon-Era one shot, not related to anything else I've ever posted.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27
Collections: Canon Era Newsies One Shots





	Lost Boy

Snipeshooter woke up to a tapping at the Newsboy Lodginghouse window. He sat up, surprised to find he didn’t feel feverish at all. He took a deep experimental breath, and, much to his pleasure, no cough. 

That meant he’d be able to sell today, or was it tomorrow? He wasn’t quite sure on the time, as it was still dark outside. That was good. It meant nobody else would have to spend their hard-earned coins keeping him in the lodging house anymore. A  _ really  _ sick newsie couldn’t sell, not if he couldn’t even get up to make it outside. Stupid pneumonia.

Speaking of outside, Snipeshooter nearly fell off the bed when he looked out the window. A shadowy figure, crouched on the window ledge. Snipeshooter froze, hoping it didn’t see him.

It waved, and Snipeshooter stifled a scream. 

“Hey, don’t be scared.” The window slid open, better revealing a boy, a bit older than Snipeshooter. His green clothes were odd, elf-like, and his red hair flopped in his eyes as he climbed through the window. He didn’t  _ look  _ particularly threatening, Snipeshooter had to admit. 

“My name’s Peter. Peter Pan. What’s your name?”

“Snipeshooter.”

“Well, it’s nice to meetcha, Snipeshooter.” The boy, Peter, said with a grin. His first impression reminded Snipeshooter a lot of Jack. 

Just then, Snipeshooter saw the strangest thing he’d ever seen in his life, and he’d seen a lot of strange things, living with folks like Blink and Racetrack. 

“Peter, what is that?” He exclaimed, staring wide eyed at the little glowing thing flitting around the room.

Peter glanced up from fiddling with Racetrack’s shoes.  _ He’d better not be putting any toads in them,  _ Snipeshooter thought. Racetrack had nearly taken Blink’s other eye out when he did that. 

“Oh, that’s just Tinkerbell.” 

“What is she?” 

Snipeshooter stared at the tiny woman in awe. She was lovely, like a tiny ray of sunshine turned into a person.

“She’s a fairy. Loads of ‘em in Neverland.”

Snipeshooter held out a hand, not caring enough to ask what Neverland was as Tinkerbell landed delicately on his fingers. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told her. She smiled, kicking at his palm and almost looking bashful. Peter laughed.

“Don’t tell her that! She’ll get all big-headed. Say,” he looked thoughtful. 

“Tink, whaddaya say about givin’ Snipeshooter here some pixie dust. Then we can go out and have some real fun.”

And quick as a newsie who heard “food”, Tinkerbell darted from Snipeshooter’s hand, dashing around like a little dragonfly, or really, a little  _ dragon _ , to be more precise. Tiny sparkles fell from her wings and dress, sprinkling into Snipeshooter’s hair and clothes like stardust. 

The little fairy hovered in front of him, looking with satisfaction at her handiwork. She nodded to Peter, giving him two miniscule thumbs up. 

“Alright, Snipeshooter. Now, just think happy thoughts, and see what happens.”

So Snipeshooter did just that. He thought about nice spring days, perfect for selling, and throwing snowballs at the Delancey’s in the winter. He thought of sharing food with Boots and Les when they needed a break from selling, and watching the lovely Miss Medda perform. 

The best day ever, he supposed, had been when they won the strike. 

Snipeshooter recalled the cheers of his friends and the celebration when they found out they won, and all of a sudden, he realized that he was in fact not sitting on the edge of his bed anymore. He wasn’t sitting on  _ anything! _ Snipeshooter was  _ hovering _ , just a few inches in the air. 

“Ack! Peter, what’s happening?” He gripped desperately at the bedpost, not wanting to fly away like the little boy in Itey’s pretty book of old fairy stories.

Peter laughed again. “You’re flying, silly! Come on, let’s go see what we can find to do around here.”

And with a flip, Peter was out the window and up in the sky. What was a boy who’d recently discovered flight to do except follow him?

\-------

After a night of the most exciting sightseeing Snipeshooter had ever experienced, (Who knew the tigers at the zoo were awake at night?) they returned to the lodging house windowsill. 

Snipeshooter looked in the window, very surprised at what he saw in the early dawn light.

“Hey, that’s me! How am I in there,  _ and  _ out here?” 

It was true, there was another little Snipeshooter, asleep in his bed. At that exact moment, Kloppman made his way into the room to wake the boys up. 

“Peter?” Snipeshooter asked nervously. 

For the first time all night, Peter didn’t look so happy. 

Kloppman shook the Snipeshooter in bed when he didn’t wake up. He shook him again, and the other boys started to crowd around. 

Out on the roof, Snipeshooter watched as Kloppman shooed the newsies away, and then covered the other Snipeshooter with his sheet, all up to his head. 

Little Tumbler started to cry then, and Skittery sat on his own bed to give the little boy a hug. Snipeshooter could see tears in the older boy’s eyes too, and suddenly, he was very very frightened. 

“What’s going on, Peter?” 

Was he... 

“Look, Snipeshooter…” Peter looked uncomfortable now. 

“This is why I come, ya know? To take you from this side to tha’ other one. To Neverland.”

“So I’m… dead?”

“Yeah,” Peter admitted, and immediately the smaller boy burst into tears, sitting on the ledge to cry. 

“Now I’ll never get to grow up,” Snipeshooter sniffled. 

“Aw, hey! Don’t look at it all sad-like! Look at it like you never  _ have to  _ grow up!”

Snipeshooter looked up, wiping the tears from his eyes. Peter was trying very hard to smile, he could tell. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well think about it!” Peter sank down next to Snipeshooter, still floating just a bit above the roof, hovering in the air like a hummingbird or the strangest balloon to ever exist. 

“Loads of folks is always complainin’ about how awful gettin’ old is, and here you get to stay young forever!”

Snipshooter sniffled a bit.

“I guess so. But…” he looked in the window, where the other newsies were getting ready, much quieter than normal. 

“I’ll still miss my friends.”

Peter put an arm around his shoulder in a brotherly, Skittery or Jack-like way, and Tinkerbell landed light as a whisper on his knee. 

“Well, you’ll get to meet all  _ my  _ friends, how about that?”

“Okay,” Snipeshooter sighed. He’d still miss everyone, but he supposed he didn’t have much choice, did he? That was just life, you did what you had to, and apparently death was the same. 

“So how do we get there? To Neverland?”

Peter smiled, a real smile this time. 

“We fly, silly!”

\------

Peter turned and glanced back through the window. 

It didn't matter how much he promised, said it would be okay, that Snipeshooter "got to" stay young. 

He shouldn’t be dead, not yet. Not like that. 

No, little children shouldn't be dead, but Snipeshooter was, and that was that. 

Like too many others, Peter would be the only one to walk with him. His lost boys, with no one to mourn them, and a world that didn't care about little wooden coffins buried in unmarked graves. 


End file.
